


Turnaround

by rivkat



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Bloodplay, Eight crazy nights, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-24
Updated: 2011-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-27 23:46:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/301407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivkat/pseuds/rivkat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for giandujakiss, who asked for Bonnie being awesome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turnaround

**Author's Note:**

  * For [giandujakiss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/giandujakiss/gifts).



  


  


  


  


“And I don’t have a boyfriend,” Bonnie finished, with the air of someone who knew that this was not an inherently persuasive complaint.

“Neither do I,” Damon pointed out, to remind her exactly who was on the other end of this conversation. He smiled at Bonnie, who had paused in her examination of the huge chain-encrusted box they’d found in the cave.

Bonnie gave him the evil eye. Not the witchy one, which was good because no way had he earned the headache, just a girl evil eye. “What, you and Alaric not getting along again?”

Damon smirked at her. “Ric and I aren’t like that. I mean, there was that one night, but he probably doesn’t want me to talk about it—”

“The sad thing is, I don’t even know whether you’re being serious,” Bonnie told him.

Damon pouted. “I don’t kiss and tell. Kiss and kill, yes, but I’m more of a show and tell type. If I were really fucking Ric, I’m pretty sure you’d know about it.”

“Yeah, like you’d be the one doing the—” Bonnie snapped and stopped, looking everywhere but at Damon.

“Okay, first, you really shouldn’t be making judgments about what people like in bed based on their behavior out of it; maybe _that’s_ part of your boyfriend trouble. And second, in my _extensive_ experience, it’s actually fucking on both sides. Or all three sides, or whatever number you prefer.”

Bonnie scowled. He liked to think it was because she was imagining him in a threesome and was uncomfortable with how hot that was. “Whatever. Have you figured out which way goes back to the surface yet?”

“Right this way,” Damon said, holding his hands out to the side like a presenter on _The Price is Right_. “You’re the one delaying us with the dish on your love life,” Damon pointed out. Bonnie, of course, didn’t acknowledge the justice of his observation, only picked up her lantern and left him to carry the giant box, which was awkward even with vampire strength, plus filthy from being stuck in the earth for decades. (Seriously, what was it with this area? Any more secret underground stashes and Damon was going to start wondering if they were really trapped in a Matrix-style video game. Or looking for giant tunneling mole rats. Possibly both.)

Damon got his own back, though, when the dire wolves showed up—though it would have been more amusing if they’d been naked mole rats—and Bonnie had to handle them on her own because his hands were full and the thing inside the box got busy trying to claw its way out.

When Bonnie had reinforced the spells on the chains enough to diminish the box’s movements to a subtle shaking, she put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow at Damon. “Thanks so much for your help,” she said.

“Thanks for yours! This _creature_ tried to aerate me while you were playing dogcatcher!” Damon explained, totally reasonably. He held up his bloody arm for emphasis. “Besides, I would’ve had your back if you’d needed it.”

Bonnie snorted, but she seemed to be in a good mood as they made their way to the light.

****

Damon held his hand to the side of his head, very much like a silent movie heroine; Bonnie was not impressed. “Ow. Can’t you direct that mojo of yours just at the _bad_ vampires?”

Since they were, for the moment, unmolested, and since it would be nice to have an extra advantage when the next wave attacked, she gave it a moment’s thought. “I could,” she concluded, “but I’d have to mark you.”

“Mark me?” Damon repeated, making it sound even sillier.

Before she could overthink it, she grabbed his head and pulled it down to hers, bringing their mouths together and biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. It felt—like a shock of electricity, like a machine shuddering to life, like the first time she’d levitated an object. His blood was salty, stinging her mouth like she was the one who’d been bleeding.

When she let him go (spitting out what she could; she didn’t know what happened to witches who died with vampire blood fresh inside them, but odds were it wasn’t good) he just stared at her, his eyes impossibly wider and his eyebrows arched even more parodically. “There,” she told him. “Now you’re marked.”

She felt the power rising in her, buzzing inside more strongly than it had any time except for when she’d borrowed other witches’ power. And then the room was full of other, more homicidal vampires, and there was no more time for embarrassment.

****

Damon systematically searched the round room for a door or passageway that would let them escape. The floor was uneven, peppered with rocks, and the walls weren’t much better. Even with his enhanced senses, he could barely see. “How do we get ourselves into these messes?” Damon asked rhetorically.

“Well, you’re an idiot,” Bonnie snapped, making her own circuit, using her phone as a flashlight to explore.

Damon wasn’t going to dignify that with an answer. Except: “Oh, and you’re here because you’re a genius, I see.”

“Dumb enough to hang around with you,” Bonnie muttered. Honestly, he didn’t know why they’d both been taken, or even how they’d both been knocked out and brought to this place, though it felt like it was underground (of fucking course). Why would anyone want both a witch and a vampire in good working order? He knew excellent reasons to want _parts_ from one or both, but two live ones just didn’t compute.

“Hey,” Bonnie said, and when Damon looked over she gestured. Above their heads, about ten feet up, there was a ledge. The hole behind it was darker than black, hardly welcoming.

Waiting until this hole filled up with boiling oil or started compressing like the trash compactor in _Star Wars_ wasn’t on his to-do list, however, so he went to stand beneath it and got down on one knee. “Well, what are you waiting for?” he asked when Bonnie just stood there. “Get climbing. I can boost you up.”

“What if there’s something dangerous up there?”

“All the better for me if you find it,” Damon pointed out. He sighed. “So, what you’re saying is, you want me to jump up, check it out, then jump _back_ down if it’s safe, help you get up there, then jump up again. You do know that, as a vampire, I don’t need an extensive exercise regimen to keep this body in its superfine condition, right?”

“Damon,” Bonnie said, and there it was—that barely concealed desire to do real violence he enjoyed so much. Even after all they’d seen, Elena and Stefan persisted in believing that Bonnie was basically harmless. Damon knew better.

“Fine,” Damon conceded. “Stand back.”

But when he got to the little hollowed-out area in the wall, he had to raise a finger to shush Bonnie’s increasingly annoyed entreaties, because he could hear their captors. Discussing some mysterious ritual, of course, and rudely failing to exposit so that Damon could figure out exactly what was up or whether these bad guys were connected with Klaus or any of his ilk, but the point was that _they_ would be in a room with an actual exit. Damon heard “… give it an hour,” which was good news, and then one of them left, confirming the ‘exit’ theory.

Damon landed like a cat. A very graceful cat. Anyone who said differently was lying.

“How are you on breaking through a couple inches of stone and/or an iron grate?”

Bonnie looked at him skeptically. “Isn’t that more of a vampire strength thing?”

“Sure, I could do it. But it would be loud and slow and we’d end up with a bunch of whatever they used to knock us out the first time pointed at us. Better if you can do it. I’m happy to break necks on the way out, though.”

Bonnie chewed her lower lip. “Listen, if I—”

Damon waited. And waited some more. He smiled; she glared. Finally she caved. “When I tasted your blood, last time—I felt more powerful.”

She looked so uncomfortable he almost didn’t feel the need to say anything. “If you get killed—”

“Yes, I know,” she said irritably. Given all the hybridized monsters they’d already seen, Damon was willing to bet that a witchpire was not a thing he wanted in his life, regardless of how useful Bonnie had been to date. Bonnie’s jaw was tight, but she swallowed and continued: “So just—keep me from getting killed, all right?”

“Easy-peasy,” he said, even though this was undoubtedly going to bite him on the ass and not in a fun way.

“So, uh, how do we do this?” she asked, clearly hating herself for any hint of reliance on him.

Just for that, he flashed her a wide grin before he fanged out and bit into his wrist. “Come on,” he said when she just stood there. “I heal up fast.”

It was nothing like forcing Elena to drink his blood. Bonnie took his arm in both her hands, holding it up to her mouth the way she might’ve held a dish of water. Her hot little tongue pressed against his flesh, increasing the burn of the shredded skin. She gagged on her first swallow, but then it changed. She sucked almost like a real vampire would have, and he could feel the pull of suction and the half-sharp edges of her teeth.

“Okay!” he said when she threatened to take more than he could afford. He had to put his hand over hers, prying her fingers loose, before she stopped.

She dropped his arm like it was red-hot and gaped at him in horror. Her bloody mouth made presently inappropriate parts of him wake up and pay attention. Damon pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and tied it around the wound while she collected herself.

“I won’t ask if it worked,” he said. She was practically crackling with power. He had a sudden vision of Bonnie with a vampire or two (he had an idea about who that might be) locked up in her basement, available for power-ups at will.

This time, when he knelt to boost her up, she came to him quickly.

****

Honestly, Bonnie felt bad that Damon had taken three bullets for her, even though she knew he was substantially more durable than she was. Even his complaining—“already down three pints—ow—you owe me a shirt, witch”—hadn’t entirely erased her feeling of obligation, plus she was still amped up and unable to relax, so after she got him settled in his ridiculous bed she went to snag some bags of blood from the downstairs cooler.

How did this become my life, she wondered as she headed back upstairs. I drank a vampire’s blood, which sounded like a Chuck Norris joke but was substantially more disturbing in practice. Especially since it had _worked_ , which implied that it would make sense to do again. And it had felt amazing—the werewolves behind their capture had flown back like they were made of tissue paper when Bonnie had raised her hand. She’d saved her friends from some idiot shaman’s attempt to counter Klaus’s hybrid army by reusing the orginal materials, including Elena’s blood, and she wasn’t even out of power yet. Sure, she could sense an unpleasant crash off in the distance, like the end of year tests at school, but right now she could have levitated herself up and down the stairs.

Damon chugged down the blood with all the grace of a frat boy at a beer bong. The bullet holes were already fading, and she couldn’t even see a trace of the holes he’d chewed in his own veins for her. “That’s better,” he said on a gasp, tossing the last empty bag aside. He licked his lips, removing the traces of blood that further reddened his lips. “Back to fighting form. Now all I need is a good lay—”

Which should’ve been her cue to leave. But Elena and Caroline were out hunting information on this latest set of nemeses and their no doubt complicated and fatal plans, and Bonnie wasn’t quite ready to go home yet. Maybe it was the vampire blood still in her system. Maybe it was _Damon’s_ blood.

“What’s it like?” she asked, startling him into actually looking at her. “Having sex whenever you want, with no emotions involved.”

“Fun?” Damon offered, after a pause. “I’d be happy to demonstrate.”

He was just lying there in the middle of that huge bed, shirtless and lazy. And damn he was pretty, especially if you ignored anything that came out of his mouth. Probably it was just the near-death adrenaline—that and the fact that she hadn’t had a real date in months—but she stepped forward and pulled off her top, tossing it aside before her knees hit the bed.

She straddled him—he was staring at her but had the horse sense to _not talk_ , though his eyebrows were doing their best to be insulting even without words—and leaned down so that their faces were inches apart. Damon, predictably, dropped his eyes to her chest.

“Yeah?” she breathed.

And she was on her back, his hands braceleted on her wrists. It had been so fast she hadn’t even felt the motion. “Be careful what you wish for,” Damon growled. “You might get it.” He pulsed his hips against hers, and she felt him already hard and ready.

She arched her back to press their bodies even more closely together and smiled, putting just enough challenge into it to make Damon’s pupils dilate and his nostrils flare. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

And if his mouth when it met hers was cooler than a human’s, well, that was something she could ignore, just for now.  


  


  


  


  



End file.
